


i want you (bless my soul)

by lightninginabottle0613



Series: lyrical smile, indigo eyes [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward Flirting, Bartender!Arya, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff and Humor, Idiots in Love, Mutual Pining, Pre-Relationship, Sansa ships it, barista!gendry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-28 17:50:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20430008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightninginabottle0613/pseuds/lightninginabottle0613
Summary: “Arya. I love you, but enough is enough. He won’t bite, I promise,” Sansa said, exasperatedly. Then, after a beat: “Well, I mean, if you’re into that, maybe. I don’t know.”-(Arya has a crush on the hot barista, Gendry is smitten with the equally hot bartender, and Sansa and Hot Pie are done with their respective shit.)





	i want you (bless my soul)

**Author's Note:**

> listen, uh...these kids are idiots.
> 
> title inspired by taylor swift's 'i think he knows.' because "wanna see what's under that attitude" is arya's consistent monologue about gendry, change my mind.
> 
> __
> 
> i haven’t written a fic of any kind since 2007…please be gentle lmao. i don’t even know what this is. these two have owned my ass for months now, and i'm always in the mood for fluff, so i figured i'd add some of my own to the fray. enjoy :)

“Arya, this is getting ridiculous.” 

Sunday afternoon found the Stark sisters in their usual station, sprawled out in the back corner of White Harbor Coffee & Tea. Sansa had her sketchpad in her lap, her computer balanced precariously on one arm of her lounge chair, a plate with a half-eaten scone teetering on the other. Various writing utensils were scattered on the small table in front of her, and she was determined to finish this week’s portfolio assignment for her Sustainable Fashion class, so she would have time to get a head start on her term paper for Westerosi History.

Arya sat opposite her in an identical lounge chair, legs tucked underneath her as she slaved away on her cumulative midterm assignment for Braavosi Literature. She’d been eager to get started on the necessary research as soon as the course started two and a half months ago, and she had grown used to carving out this time every week for some uninterrupted exploration of her selected texts. She preferred this specific armchair for its convenient placement just outside of the afternoon sun’s glare, and the beginning of the semester saw frequent races to see which of the siblings could get there first. But by the third weekend, Sansa surrendered to her younger sister completely. The redhead was nothing if not keenly observant (annoyingly so, depending on who you asked), and it only took a few closely monitored reveries to figure out the other reason Arya fought for that chair. 

“Please? You know my usual, and I’ll give you my credit card. I really don’t feel like getting up.”

“You have eyes, right? Do you see my set-up right now? I already got up an hour ago to get my own stuff. Get it yourself.”

“But you’re closer to the counter.”

“Arya.”

“_Sansa._” 

“_Arya_. I love you, but enough is enough. He won’t bite, I promise,” Sansa said, exasperatedly. Then, after a beat: “Well, I mean, if you’re into that, maybe. I don’t know.”

A blush bloomed on Arya’s face as she suddenly became very intrigued by the pulls in the armchair’s fabric. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, do you not? I have eyes, too, you know. Plus, if it helps at all, it’s completely mutual. I swear, that boy looks like he wants to kill anyone that so much as breathes near him, but he looks over here every ten seconds like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.” 

“How in the world would you know that? Your back is to him.”

“Because I stand in line and order from him every Sunday, genius. And you just all but admitted that he’s the reason you’re being impossible, so I rest my case.”

Arya let out a sharp exhale and glared at her sister. “He does not look over here that often.”

“Babe, give me a break.”

“I’ll give you a break if you go get me a coffee.”

“That would actually be the opposite of giving me a break.”

The pair stared each other down for half a minute, but Arya knew this was not a stand-off she would win. Besides, Sansa was right. She’d be lying to herself if she said she even cared at all about avoiding the sun. She was far more interested in having the perfect vantage point for examining the black-haired barista that maybe, definitely, spent half of his shift looking right back at her. Not that she noticed that. Or, again, cared.

“Gods, fine. Fine! I’ll get my own. Brat.” Arya stood up and pretended to soften a non-existent crease in her jeans, while actually wiping her clammy palms semi-dry. She looked up to find Sansa smirking at her triumphantly.

“Knock him dead, killer. Order that coffee.”

“Shut up,” Arya mumbled, rolling her eyes as she passed. She made her way behind the man currently ordering at the counter, pointedly avoiding a glance at the source of her anxiety. _You got this,_ she encouraged herself. _He probably isn’t even looking at you when he’s staring into the corner. That painting above the chair is pretty cool. Maybe he’s into art. Maybe-_

“Next?”

_Shit._ Suddenly, there was no one standing in the way of her and the counter. And more pressingly, the tall, broad-shouldered boy behind it. She inhaled a little deeper than usual and moved forward.

“Hi,” she said warmly, chancing a small smile.

“Hey, what can I get started for you?” he replied, his eyes downcast. If Arya didn’t know any better, she would think he was just as nervous as she was. She was hit with an unexpected surge of confidence, in the form of Sansa coughing loudly from her peripheral vision. There was no one else behind her in line, so she figured an attempt at conversation wouldn’t hurt (well, _that_ much).

“I’m starting to crash, and I need something strong if I want any hope of making it through the rest of the day. You don’t by chance offer your coffee intravenously, do you?”

Seemingly taken aback by her joke, he let out a small chuckle and looked up at her. “Afraid not, m’lady.”

Arya was pretty sure anyone within a mile could hear how loud her heart was beating, and the barista’s (_Gendry’s_, as she was now close enough to read his name tag for the first time) icy blue eyes were not helping. Ordinarily, she would have been infuriated by that term of endearment, but she couldn’t find it in her to care. _What is wrong with me?_

“Damn. Guess I’ll settle for the largest dark roast you can give me, then,” she replied with a slightly bigger smile. She tore her eyes away from his long enough to notice him tugging (_skittishly?_) on the collar of his shirt, revealing the top edge of what appeared to be an intricate tattoo. Her eyes inadvertently widened. _Shit, he’s cool. Be cool._

“Room for cream and sugar?”

“Nope, I take it black.” _What the fuck? ‘I take it black?’ Who are you trying to impress?_ she squeaked internally. _Oh. Right._

“Perfect,” he smirked. “Name?”

_He just needs your name for the order, dumbass. Keep it together. _“Arya.”

“Arya,” he murmured, almost to himself. His eyes flickered to hers again, as he finished writing her name on the cup and capped his marker. “Coming right up.”

She retrieved her coffee from Gendry without incident, and she managed to keep her blush to a minimum when their fingers brushed during the exchange (and when hers continued to tingle afterwards). She pretended not to notice the way the corners of his eyes crinkled when he gave her the first real smile that she’d ever seen from him. And she feigned composure on her walk back to the armchairs - an effort deemed futile upon seeing Sansa’s absolutely _giddy_ facial expression.

“So, when is the wedding?”

“Calm down. We barely talked. All he did was ask for my name.” Sansa’s face lit up. She threw her head back and cackled. “What?” Arya huffed.

“You were the only one in line. Why would he need your name?”

As compelling and logical as that argument was, Arya decided to ignore it. “Joke’s on me, regardless. This is black coffee.”

“You hate black coffee. Go back up there and ask for half-and-half. He probably messed it up on purpose so you would-“

“No, I ordered it black on purpose.”

“What? Why?”

“I panicked! I wanted him to think I was cool!” The next cackle was louder.

“Oh my god, this is the best day of my life. You are so cute.”

“This isn’t funny!” Her eyes darted up to Gendry, who, of course, had chosen that moment to peek in her direction out of the corner of his eye. “And now I have to drink this, so he doesn’t think I’m an absolute moron,” she whispered.

“You _are_-“

“Sansa.”

Overlooking her sister’s continued needling, Arya tentatively blew on her beverage before taking a small sip. _Gods above, that is foul. How do people drink it like this? _She swallowed, trying her best to suppress the grimace that was threatening to take over her face. She looked up and should not have been as surprised as she was that Gendry was still staring, a little more overtly this time, clearly hoping for some indication that the coffee was enough to meet her needs. Suddenly, something took over her body, and she paired a thumbs up with a goofy grin. The image of him laughing - _laughing_ \- and running his hand through his hair, before turning back toward the growing line at the counter, would be enough to keep her smiling for weeks. _I guess I drink black coffee now._

—

“Dude, get over yourself.”

After an exhausting week of juggling eight classes and four jobs between the two of them, Gendry and Hot Pie always found themselves at The Neck on Saturday nights to blow off steam. The roommates found the bar about a month back, and it quickly became their weekly haunt. Hot Pie was pretty particular about food, and he was a sucker for their breadsticks, especially after downing a few drinks. Gendry, on the other hand, was easier to impress in that department. All he needed was sustenance, ideally of the greasy variety, in a darkened booth where he didn’t have to interact with anyone. It was another factor entirely that kept him willingly coming back, and she was just a few yards away, masterfully mixing drinks on the other side of the bar.

On their first night there, Gendry had recognized her immediately. He had nothing to thank for that except his overwhelming (_probably creepy, he should definitely stop_) need to stare at her when she came into White Harbor with her (_friend? sister?_) every Sunday afternoon. He knew his infatuation was out of hand a while ago when he had seen a pair of old men approaching the girls’ usual pair of armchairs one Sunday, newspapers tucked under their arms and looking like they were planning to settle into one spot for a while. He had practically leapt out from behind the counter and made up some nonsense about the chairs being reserved for a club meeting that was bound to start any minute. Lo and behold, the bell atop the cafe’s front door had chimed a few beats later, and he had done his best (_his best was never that great, anyway_) not to ogle at the bright-eyed vision before him. Now that he had not one, but _two,_ opportunities a week to (_to what? do nothing?_) around her, you wouldn’t catch him dead anywhere else.

“I don’t feel like arguing, man. I just want another beer. I’ll pay for another round of breadsticks.”

“Hasn’t this weird impasse been breached? I thought you said she introduced herself last Sunday.”

Gendry rolled his eyes. “I would hardly call it an introduction. I was the one that asked for her name. There wasn’t even a line behind her, so she was probably weirded out that I even asked.”

“Well, still, now it’ll be weird if you _don’t_ go up there, right? I mean, honestly, if she looks over here one more time, I’m gonna drag you up there myself.”

“I’d pay money to see you try. And she’s not looking over here,” he lied. No matter how much he told himself she wasn’t, he knew she was. He second-guessed her interest until she ordered her coffee black last week. He had been paying far too much attention to what she drank over the past few months not to notice how much shit she put in her drinks. _She’s nervous,_ he had mused. _Do…I make her nervous?_

“You are, honest to gods, the most stubborn person I’ve ever met. You would probably _still_ deny it if she came up to you and planted one right on you,” Hot Pie joked, standing up in resignation to get their drinks.

“‘Planted one on me?’ Alright, grandma,” Gendry retorted, shifting in his seat to hide how flustered _that_ thought made him. He watched his roommate make his way through the crowd to the bar and talk to the bartender (_Arya,_ he recalled fondly) with ease. If he didn’t find it so infuriatingly impossible to look anywhere else, he might have missed the slight disappointment that crossed her face as her gaze danced for a split second to where he sat.

Hot Pie was back within the next minute, shaking his head before he even reached the booth. “You are hopeless, my friend. Hopeless.”

Gendry quickly changed the subject, and, soon, the pair found themselves in stitches over something Lommy had said in class the other day, the drinks starting to have an effect on both of them. Just before Hot Pie could launch into his best, stuffiest Professor Lannister impression, Gendry noticed a small figure with brown hair slip out the back door of the pub. Spurred by a force unknown (_liquid courage, pathetic_), he rose from the booth and shoved his jacket on.

“I’ll be right back. I need some air.”

Hot Pie may have been generally compliant with Gendry’s bullheadedness, but he certainly wasn’t dumb. He peered knowingly at the door and back at Gendry. “Okay, sure. Go get some. Air.”

Gendry flipped him off, keeping his eyes straight ahead as he walked toward the door. He braced himself for the October chill as he pushed it open, but he realized he would barely need his jacket with how warm he quickly felt around the person in front of him.

“Arya?” he asked, slowly approaching her and careful not to startle her. It suddenly dawned on him that following women alone into dark alleys was not exactly the best look, and he wondered if it happened to her a lot, working at a popular bar like this and her looking like…that. _See? Creepy._

Arya looked up quickly at the sound of his voice, and something akin to relief spread across her sharp features. “Oh, hey. Gendry, right?”

His heartbeat sped up at the sound of his name coming out of her mouth, the best sound he’d probably ever heard, and his mind raced thinking about how she could possibly know that. _You wear a name tag, idiot. Relax._

“Yeah,” he said with a shy smile. “Glad to see you’re still with us. I can add ‘life-saving properties’ to the description of the dark roast, then.”

Arya laughed softly, and, _Nope. _That_ is the best sound I’ve ever heard._ She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. “Do you smoke?”

“Sure, if you’re offering,” he answered, as dispassionately as he could. It wasn’t totally a lie. He did smoke, sometimes. When he had approximately four or five more drinks in his system than he currently did, and when no one else around him was aware enough to notice how much he embarrassed himself. There was exactly one person around him at the moment, and she seemed to be very aware of him. _Fantastic, _he grumbled internally.

She passed him the supplies, and their hands grazed each other’s, and, _There’s that tingle again. Maybe this won’t be so bad._ He fumbled for a second with the lighter until he successfully ignited the cigarette, and he inhaled slowly. _Shit._

“So, are you from Winterfell?” Arya asked. “You look comfortable with the cold, like a regular northerner.”

Gendry opened his mouth to answer, momentarily forgetting his current predicament, and the air between them was met with a series of sputtering coughs. “King’s Landing,” he managed to choke out. _I really shouldn’t be allowed around people. Let alone people this pretty._

“Ah, a southern boy,” she quipped, tucking a flyaway behind her ear, which he noticed was lined with piercings. “We locals aren’t very sympathetic to interlopers, you know. How do I know you’re not plotting my demise right this second?”

Her question caught him at the end of another slow drag, and his hopes of being able to play this one out more casually were dashed. He coughed some more, and his eyes started to tear up. She looked amused. _Hells, I’ll eat the damn cigarette if she keeps being this cute. _

“I wouldn’t worry too much. You look like you could take me.” Her face changed from amused to surprised by his brazenness. _That makes two of us._

“Well, if you’re as good in a fight as you are with an espresso machine, I think I may have met my match.”

The two stood next to each other, their backs to the brick wall, facing out into the employee parking lot. They continued to smoke in surprisingly comfortable silence for a few minutes, save for a few poorly stifled hacking fits and what Gendry could _swear_ were similarly disguised giggles. He looked down at her just as she was looking back down at her feet. _Not from looking at me, though. There’s probably a bug flying above my head or something._

“What required the extra caffeine boost on Sunday? Writing the Great Westerosi Novel or something?”

“Close. Braavosi, actually. I’m so close to midterm break, I can taste it.” She took a final drag of her cigarette and extinguished it on the surface of the ashtray to her left. “I think my body will be grateful for a brief moratorium on coffee once I actually turn the monster in.”

Gendry’s stomach dropped - at both her movements toward the door signaling the end of her smoke break, and the prospect of her not having a reason to maintain her Sunday routine in a few short weeks. “Right. I’m sure you’ll want to stay as far away from the cafe as possible after that. Too many stressful memories,” he said, hoping he sounded more joking than he actually felt.

“I said brief, Gendry. I’m taking Valyrian Linguistics next term. Not enough coffee in the world,” Arya returned with a wink. _Seven hells._ She sauntered to the door and turned back with her arm bracing the handle. “See you tomorrow then?”

Any discouragement (and residual throat-burning from the cigarette he had long given up on) faded after hearing the hope in her voice. Remembering her reaction last time, he decided to take the leap: “See you tomorrow, m’lady.”

Arya narrowed her eyes, and Gendry would have thought she was actually mad, if not for the slight simper on her face. “Don’t call me that,” she replied, in a tone that solidified his decision to call her that as much as possible in the future.

___

“You know, seriously, if you asked me when we were kids which one of us would have the romantic comedy love story, I would have bet anything it would be me. Of course, it’s gonna fall right into the lap of someone who wasn’t even looking for it. Unbelievable,” Sansa lamented, as the sisters lugged their backpacks from the car to the coffee shop the next day.

“I didn’t realize smoking together for five minutes constituted a love story,” Arya retorted dryly. “I guess I’m also in a whirlwind romance with Sandor, with Jon, with-“

“Arya! You said yourself that he looked like he’d never even seen a cigarette before. I’ve been around enough guys to know the lengths they’ll go to just to be around a girl they like. He likes you. Trust me.”

Arya sighed. “Well, let me actually try to get through a real conversation with him first, and then we can talk about whether it’s a love story. Right now, it just feels like a giant game of chicken.”

“I’ll take it,” Sansa resigned. “For your first challenge, see if you can handle getting a drink that won’t make you dry heave. And get me a scone, while you’re at it.” She handed Arya her wallet as she opened the door, and both girls nearly collided with the woman standing in line right by the entrance. The queue was particularly long today, but thankfully their coveted corner remained unoccupied, as always. Arya tried her best to quell the thought that maybe, perhaps, a specific someone was responsible for making sure it was consistently available.

“Ugh, can we wait until this line dies down? I have, like, twenty thoughts in my head for this next section of my paper, and the longer I wait to get them out, the more likely I am to lose them.”

“Fine. But don’t think I’ve forgotten.”

The sisters weaved through the dense crowd and made their way toward the armchairs. Arya scanned behind the counter for Gendry and saw him manning an assembly line of empty cold brew cups. As if on cue, his eyes drifted up at that moment to meet hers, and his entire face brightened. Just when she thought he couldn’t get any more adorable, he raised his (_incredibly toned, fuck_) arm and gave her the slightest wave. She was fairly certain that she returned it, but she couldn’t be sure. Her entire body was numb.

Arya assumed her normal position in her chair, donned her noise-cancelling headphones, and got to work. She wasn’t lying before - she had spent all morning on her run thinking about her paper, and she was actually pretty positive that she could finish a rough draft by the end of the day. Before she knew it, a half hour had passed, and her assorted reflections were sufficiently typed in haphazard bullet points. She saved her document and bent down to put her laptop on the table, so she could finally stand in the diminishing line at the counter. A pair of worn leather boots entered her line of vision right next to where her bag sat on the floor, and she jumped.

Gendry stood towering over her, his mouth moving. It took Arya a second to process that she still had her headphones on. She quickly shoved them off her head.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

He chuckled softly. “I said, you looked like you were in the zone, and I figured you wouldn’t wanna interrupt your flow to wait in that line.” Only then did she register that he was holding a steaming mug of coffee on a small saucer, made to look even smaller in his large hands. He blushed and set it down in front of her. “Don’t want you collapsing on me, now.”

Mouth slightly agape, Arya looked across the table at her sister, who looked positively ready to explode with joy. She was (_very poorly_) concealing her wicked grin behind her sketchpad. Realizing that Arya hadn’t replied yet, Sansa mouthed, “Say something, dork.”

“I - yeah. I mean, thank you. You didn’t have to do that. I was just on my way up.” Still flustered, she started to reach for her wallet to hand him some cash, but he put his hand out and unabashedly laid it on top of hers.

“It’s on the house,” Gendry said warmly. “Oh, and here.” He reached into the pocket of his apron and pulled out a handful of sugar packets and milk dispensers, dropping them on the table next to the plate with a wink.

“Back to work, now. You’re burning daylight,” he said with mock authority. She shivered thinking about what else he could say to her in that tone. Before she could even begin to form a coherent thought, he was halfway back to the counter.

Sansa squealed and snapped her out of her trance. “Your kids will be gorgeous.”

Her defenses sufficiently weakened, Arya didn’t even bother trying to argue with her sister. She let out a bewildered breath, a light giggle escaping with it. “I still need to get you your scone.”

“Oh, I’m sending you up for so many things today. I might need some napkins in, like, fifteen minutes. And I think I’ll be in the mood for some tea later. Maybe some chips after that.”

Arya feigned indignation, as she emptied the milk and sugar packets into the mug, which somehow had just the right amount of room. She grabbed it with both hands and moved it toward her mouth, a piece of torn notebook paper floating onto the floor from where it was nestled between the cup and the plate.

She was usually much quicker than Sansa, but her movements were hindered by the hot beverage in her grasp. Still, from where she sat, the sun having just reached its peak and shining directly onto her sister’s lap, she could see through the paper and discern the outline of a phone number.

Sansa flopped back dramatically in her chair. “I mean. I give up.”

___

Never had Gendry known anxiety like the kind he felt in the days following Sunday afternoon. He barely ever looked people directly in the eye, never mind gave someone his actual, real phone number. (He could admit to doling out a few fake numbers in the past to get some particularly annoying girls off his back.)

_She’s clearly busy,_ he told himself. _She’s a student, she works, she has a life._ By Friday morning, he had talked himself down with every excuse in the book. He was about to start letting himself down easy with the hard truth that maybe she really wasn’t interested, when his phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number.

** _Hey, Gendry - it’s Arya. I’m sorry for taking so long to text you. This week has been absolutely insane. Anyway, I just wanted to return the favor and make sure you had my number, too. Hope I see you at the bar tomorrow night. _ **

Before he could even begin to smile like a fool, his phone buzzed again.

** _Oh, also, if you’re planning on coming, will you text me when you’re on your way, so I can make sure your booth is free? Last week, I almost had to fight these two girls who were about to sit there right before you and your friend showed up. Don’t make me get fired, Gendry. Then I’ll have to fight you, too._ **

____

“Hey! Your dark, musty booth awaits,” Arya yelled over the din. She flashed a friendly smile in Hot Pie’s direction, before turning to Gendry. She mimed rolling up her sleeves and flexed both of her biceps. While he was fairly sure she didn’t _actually_ have to fight anyone that night, that knowledge did nothing to prevent the warmth that pooled in his stomach at the thought of her using those muscles in other ways.

The roommates reached their table, and Hot Pie deposited his jacket on his seat before turning back toward the bar, wallet in hand.

“Wait, where are you going?” Gendry reached out and grabbed his arm. “I got it, don’t worry.”

Hot Pie snickered. “Oh, ‘don’t worry,’ he says. As if it’s no big thing. As if you go up there all the time and not _never._” He looked behind him and pointed toward Gendry. “This kid’s killing me,” he said, to no one in particular.

“Alright, enough,” Gendry replied, laughing. “I get it. Just sit down.”

“They grow up so fast,” he heard Hot Pie mutter, as he turned away. He took a second to seek out Arya amidst the growing crowd, and he all but elbowed his way to the counter in front of her.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Arya chaffed. “What’ll it be?”

“What does the bartender recommend?” he flirted boldly.

“Depends on your mood, I guess,” she mused, grabbing various nozzles as she filled an order. “I like a gin and tonic after a particularly stressful day. I could come up with a fun tequila drink if you’re feeling daring. Or I could _not_ pretend I don’t know exactly what kind of beer you always get and just call it a day,” she said with a wink. She finished expertly making the cocktail she was working on before gracefully sliding it down the bar top toward the expectant patron and turning her full attention toward Gendry. The whole routine nearly made his heart stop.

“You mean, like I pretended not to know that you don’t actually take your coffee black?”

Arya winced. “Something like that, yeah.” He started to laugh as she cut in again. “It’s not my fault! I saw your tattoo, and I panicked. I thought you would think I was lame if I-“

“Asked for four sugars and three half-and-half packets? Lame, no, but I may have slipped you a referral for a dentist.”

That earned him his favorite mock glare as she uncapped a beer and handed it to someone behind him in exchange for a five-dollar bill. She ducked below the bar and reappeared with his usual. She leaned forward as he took his first sip, her arms bearing her weight on the counter. Her eyes flickered briefly to the spot at his collar where his bull tattoo was visible. Then her words fully dawned on him.

“Why did my tattoo make you panic?”

“Only really cool people have tattoos. Everyone knows that.”

“Not entirely. For all you know, I got this when I was plastered, and it means nothing to me.”

“Is that true?”

“No, I’m pretty cool,” Gendry grinned. “Although, don’t five piercings basically equal out to one tattoo?” he asked, reaching across the small gap between them to brush a lock of hair behind her ear, in order to get a better view of her various hoops and studs. 

“Eight, actually.”

“Eight? Where-“

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she said with a wolfish grin. He realized that his hand had yet to move from its position against her cheek, and she seemed to downright melt into his touch. He started to trace along the shell of her ear with his index finger. Just as he mentally braced himself to divulge just how badly he _did_ want to know, the sound of shattering glass brought both of them right back to earth.

“Ah, shit,” she muttered, searching for the source of the incident. A burly man with a half-scorched face poked his head out from the door to the kitchen and barked out her name. She scowled and reluctantly stepped away from the counter. “I should get back there and help. It’s getting a bit crazy in here. That time of night. I’ll catch up with you later on, yeah?”

“You know where to find me, m’lady,” he replied with a mock-bow. Arya laughed in spite of herself, quickly grabbed a bottle of what she knew to be Hot Pie’s typical order, and slid it toward Gendry before retreating into the kitchen.

“What are we up to now? Have we surpassed five minutes of interaction time yet?” Hot Pie teased, as Gendry practically floated back to the booth with the drinks.

“Shut up. I think she likes me.”

Hot Pie groaned and put his head in his hands. Gendry took another swig.

___

For the next few hours, the pair sat back and got lost in conversation, as usual. Gendry stole glances toward the bar every chance he got, and sometimes he was met with a similar furtive look from Arya. Other times, he caught her in the middle of mixing a drink, wiping down the counter, or chatting with a customer. He took these opportunities to sit back and unashamedly observe her. He noticed the difference between her polite laugh and her genuine one. He saw how effortlessly she multitasked. And he saw how she singlehandedly broke up a verbal altercation that was rapidly getting out of hand between two patrons. Each finding was carefully added to the growing list of reasons that he was so taken with her. And he only wanted more. 

Upon his, probably, hundredth peek in her direction, he saw her shrugging her coat on and making her way toward the door. Before she reached the threshold, she stopped and turned toward his booth, clearly intending to wait until he looked up again. When she found that his eyes were already on her, she seemed to shudder pleasantly. With a smile, she jerked her head in the direction of the back alley, and Gendry quickly stood up to follow her.

“You know, you’re lucky I like you well enough to sit here alone while you continue to make a fool of yourself. You better make this worth my while,” Hot Pie remarked, as Gendry zipped his jacket.

Gendry mussed his friend’s hair as he started toward where Arya waited for him. As he approached, he suddenly realized he would have to come clean about his aversion to cigarettes. It would only be fair, since she owned up to the black coffee incident. No healthy relationship is founded on lies. _Relationship? Gods, get a grip. You don’t even know her last name. _

Arya held the door open for him, and the pair stepped outside into the brisk night air. They automatically remained near each other for warmth (_yeah, just for warmth_), and they found themselves in a familiar position against the brick wall. This time, they leaned on their shoulders, facing each other. 

“Look, I feel like I should tell you, I don’t actually-“

“Smoke?” she snorted. “Yeah, I kinda figured. I was fully prepared to call in an EMT in case you hacked up a lung.”

Gendry smiled sheepishly. “Well, here’s hoping the excuse of not wanting to seem lame works both ways.”

“I guess you’re off the hook,” Arya said, rolling her eyes playfully. “I don’t really smoke that much either. I honestly only cave every once in a while, when I’ve reached my fill of crabby old bar clientele.” She looked up, her grey eyes locked onto his. She seemed to consider her words for a moment. “Last weekend was pretty brutal. Tonight hasn’t been so bad. I don’t think I need one.”

“Just needed a breather then?”

“Well, I still only have about five minutes, but I figured we could do something else.” Gendry’s heart skipped a beat, and he felt her hands snake around his waist to rest on his back, pulling herself slightly closer. “Hopefully it makes you less nauseous than the last thing we did out here.”

A gentle smile illuminating his face, he brought one hand to rest on her hip and the other to softly cradle the side of her face. He ran his thumb slowly along her defined jawline. “Yeah? What did you have in mind?”

“I thought we could just continue to stand here pining over each other like idiots without actually doing anything about it. We’ve gotten pretty good at that.”

At that, Gendry threw his head back and laughed out loud. His grip on her waist tightened subtly. “As m’lady commands.”

She tilted her head and her eyes landed permanently on the lower half of Gendry’s face. “_Gods,_ I really have met my match, haven’t I?”

He leaned down so the tips of their noses brushed against each other. “So, you do want to fight then?”

“Shut up, Gendry,” Arya muttered, finally surging forward and closing the gap between them.

He felt a rush of helplessness, as the kiss started slow and deliberate. Each time their lips met, it was as if their surroundings faded completely, and no other people in the world existed. He gradually moved the hand cradling her face to reside on the back of her head, carding his fingers through her hair and earning him a slight gasp. He smiled into her next, more insistent kiss as she brought one hand to the center of his chest. He released an involuntary groan, low in his throat, as she slid her tongue across his lips, and then it was her turn to smile. They only fully parted when they both needed air, still remaining close enough for their foreheads to rest against one another (_nope, definitely not just for warmth_).

After a few beats of heavy breathing, their chests rising and falling in tandem, Arya let out a giggle.

“That bad, huh?” Gendry poked.

“No, no, it’s not that. It’s just - my sister is gonna die. She’s practically been the president of this fan club for months.”

“So that _is_ your sister, then? I was never sure. You guys just look nothing alike, I thought there was no way.” 

Arya’s eyes fell down to her feet, and her volume decreased nervously. She seemed to regret mentioning her sister at all. “Yeah, we get that a lot. Tall and feminine and beautiful, next to short and…_not_ feminine and…well.”

Gendry lifted her chin with his index and middle fingers and poured every ounce of reverence he held for her into his gaze. He was still close enough to breathe in her scent - an alluring mixture of vanilla and lavender - and his eyes uncontrollably flickered shut for a split second as he soaked it in.

“Arya, you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.” And she was. She was witty and _clearly_ smart. She moved with an entirely different kind of grace than that of her sister. It was almost like every step she took was an action in a sparring match, in which she was challenging anyone around her, challenging the world, to underestimate her. What she lacked in height, she more than made up for in spunk, and she seemed to have no idea just how captivating she was to anyone that spent more than a few minutes in her presence.

She softened faintly, but he could tell her defenses were still up. “I’m sure you say that to all the girls you follow into dark alleys.”

“I knew that was creepy.”

“Good thing you’re cute.”

“Cute?!” he exclaimed, with mock-exasperation. “Is that all I am?”

“Fine, _really _cute.”

Gendry couldn’t help his ridiculous grin from growing wider by the second. “I’ll take it.” He gently pressed his lips to the corner of her right eyelid, then to the tip of her nose, to her cheek, and finally to her awaiting mouth. This second bout of kissing endured slowly, but passionately. This time, when they broke apart, it was so he could pepper a line of open-mouthed kisses down the column of her neck and back up behind her ear. He smirked as he maneuvered around the back clasps of her assortment of earrings.

His hands had slipped underneath the hem of her shirt from where he held her waist inside her open coat, and both of her hands were tangled in his hair, tugging slightly. He should have better anticipated the next development - the door to the back alley banging open.

“Oy!” the same angry-looking man from the kitchen growled. “Last time I checked, you were on the clock. If I’m gonna pay you to eye-fuck this dumb twat, at least do it from behind the bar like you usually do.”

Gendry’s jaw dropped at the severity of the man’s tone, but Arya simply crossed her arms and glared up at him, staying firmly in Gendry’s frozen embrace. “Talk to me like that again, and we’ll see if I give you Sansa’s phone number or not. I’ll be in in a minute.”

The man grumbled something unintelligibly under his breath and slammed the door shut behind him on his way back inside.

“You better get inside before you get in trouble.” 

“Oh, please. Sandor would be lost without me. There’d be no one to put out all of his kitchen fires, the big wimp.” Arya winked and stood on her tiptoes to reach Gendry’s lips one last time. _I don’t see that ever getting old,_ he thought.

“Hey, what are you up to on Friday?” Arya asked.

“Whatever you’re up to,” Gendry replied, still in a trance. 

“Good. My family’s throwing an early Halloween party. You should come.” She reached into her coat pocket to pull out her phone. “Here, I’ll text you the address, in case you wanna plan ahead.”

His phone chimed, and he pulled up the location she sent. His eyes nearly popped out of his skull. “Your family rented out Winterfell Manor for a Halloween party? Gods, what are you, royalty?”

Arya laughed and shook her head. “Something like that, yeah.”

An angry fist pounded on the other side of the door, and the pair both looked toward the source of the noise. “Stark! You’re on thin ice!” came a muffled bellow. She laughed even harder when she turned back and saw Gendry’s stunned expression.

“I’m sorry, _what_ did he call you?”

Arya quickly kissed him on the cheek and bounced toward the entryway. In exactly the same manner as last week, she leaned against the handle before pushing it forward. “See you tomorrow, then?”

Except it wasn’t the same at all. Her eyes sparkled more than usual as she looked him up and down, and her entire demeanor betrayed her undeniable attraction to him. He was sure he looked no less affected. In that moment, he knew he was done for.

“See you tomorrow, m’lady.”

**Author's Note:**

> i successfully avoided all of my responsibilities for a whole day writing this, and it was actually pretty fun. it's been a while since i've written creatively and i'm a little rusty, but on the off-chance that anyone actually enjoys this, i would not be opposed to exploring more stories with these bbs. 
> 
> i've read gendrya fics pretty much every day for the past three months, so i just want to shout out anyone and everyone who has created content in this fandom. y'all are so talented, and you've inspired me to write again, so thank you!
> 
> i'm lightninginabottle0613 on tumblr :)


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